


Dance

by Frangipanidownunder



Category: The X-Files
Genre: F/M, MSR, Season 11, lyrics
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 01:40:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 535
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22935718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Frangipanidownunder/pseuds/Frangipanidownunder
Summary: Fox Mulder cannot dance, but he wants to dance. Lyrics prompt for Christina Perri's 'A Thousand Years'.
Relationships: Fox Mulder/Dana Scully
Comments: 1
Kudos: 12





	Dance

There’s something about the way he moves that has always fascinated her. His limbs are long and lean, his back broad and his shoulders wide enough to make his suits hang well. He’s worked out over the years and is chunkier around the middle, filled out in good ways. Rolling her fingers around his upper arms is a non-guilty pleasure. He knows she loves it; he flexes hard just to get the lip-licking reaction from her.

There are many ways his body can move her emotionally and one way he can’t.

Fox Mulder cannot dance.

All right, he may be able to perform a stiff-backed waltz to satisfy the establishment, going through the step pattern in a rote but disinterested way, but he cannot turn, twist, box step, grapevine or even do-si-do. Even his Elvis shimmy is a crime against humanity.

Right now, he’s blasting The Bee Gees out of the music system he’s rigged up on the deck and trying to Night Fever like nobody’s watching. Unfortunately, she’s watching. She covers her eyes as she walks past with the wash basket. The clothes have dried stiff on the hot summer breeze and the shrill sound of the falsetto harmonies waft further than she anticipated.

“Scully! Get that skinny ass down here and join me. This Passionfruit gin is just what the doctor ordered.” He holds up his glass as he tries to do his best John Travolta.

It’s appalling.

Basket on hip, she skirts his boogeying figure and turns the volume down. He sort of moonwalks over and flips it back up, steals the washing from her, dumps the basket inside the back door, hands her a glass of gin and pulls her by the other hand into his chest.

“Drink, Scully. Relax. It’s a beautiful evening. We should let our hair down.”

“Mulder, your hair is so far down, you’ve grown a tail.”

He wiggles his butt, singing ‘shake your tail feather’ and she takes a long, numbing gulp of liquor.

“Choose another track,” he says, refilling her glass. “And make it a slow one. I’m working up a sweat here and I want to save my all my love for you later, woman.” He smacks her ass playfully with the tee-shirt he’s removed.

“Ew, Mulder, that’s soaking.” She chucks the offending article over the handrail.

The opening notes of the song fill the air. One of her favourites.

The day we met,  
Frozen I held my breath  
Right from the start  
I knew that I’d found a home for my heart

Hot arms wrap around her torso and she feels the grooves of his abdominal muscles press against her. He circles her around, slowly, leaning his chin in the crook of her neck, nuzzling her. His movements are more fluid, with her as a guide. 

They turn as one and the sun dips below the darkening line of the horizon.

He whispers the words to her as they slide inside and up the stairs.

And all along I believed I would find you  
Time has brought your heart to me  
I have loved you for a thousand years  
I’ll love you for a thousand more

And the night is warm and loving.


End file.
